Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The evening air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, a perfume that clung to our skin as we stood in the dim light. His hand found the small of my back, a gentle pressure that sent a tremor through my entire being, a silent question I answered with a slow, deliberate blink. Our foreheads touched, and in that shared breath, the world narrowed to the space between our lips, charged with unspoken promises. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, a comforting heat that contrasted with the cool night breeze on my arms. His thumb traced a slow, hypnotic circle on my palm, each rotation unraveling a thread of my composure, leaving me wonderfully vulnerable. A soft sigh escaped me, not of surrender, but of profound recognition, as if my soul had finally found its missing echo. The rustling leaves seemed to whisper secrets only we were meant to understand, composing a symphony for our private world. In his eyes, I saw not just desire, but a deep, reverent awe that made my heart ache with a beautiful, swelling tenderness. Every nerve ending felt alive, humming with the anticipation of a touch that had not yet arrived, yet was already felt everywhere. This was not a capture, but a release, a quiet, glorious unleashing of a self I had kept carefully hidden away.
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